


Baggage Claim

by friendlyneighborhoodfairy



Series: FNF's Nonbinary Month fics 2019 [1]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, F/F, Family Drama, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Legal Drama, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Strangers to Lovers, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-28 14:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendlyneighborhoodfairy/pseuds/friendlyneighborhoodfairy
Summary: {Nonbinary Month 2019 #1.} The person next to Freed on their flight is crying over a book--Freed's favorite book. They strike up conversation; Laxus is in town for his father's trial while his grandfather barely hangs onto life. Freed is overworking to a horrific degree. Both need change, but don't know how to make it happen.





	1. Read Me Like a Book

**Author's Note:**

  * For [splendidlyimperfect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/splendidlyimperfect/gifts).

> Fairy Tail + nonbinary.
> 
> Welcome to Nonbinary Month 2019! Once again, August will feature fics from various fandoms with nonbinary, trans, and intersex characters. There's a collection on AO3 where they're aggregated. Please feel free to join in or simply support by reading. ^_^
> 
> This fic is based off an experience splendidlyimperfect had on an airplane ^_^

The man beside Freed was doing a good job of hiding his tears.

It was a late flight, the passengers subdued, and so Freed had not asked the blonde man's name. After clenching the armrests through takeoff—Freed had almost asked if he were okay, except the man was glaring so hard—the man shoved his nose in a book and Freed pulled up some work on their tablet.

But they heard the sniff, however quiet it was.

The man looked off through the window into the dark.

After another minute of staring, Freed finally said, "Are you alright?"

The man turned, blinking. "What?"

Freed had a moment trying to think what to say.

"Good book?" they floundered.

The man glanced down at the tome, his finger between the pages.

"Very."

"Which is it?"

The man seemed reluctant to answer, but he let them lean over and see the cover.

"Carry On," they said, and the man shifted uncomfortably, but Freed went on, "I adore that book."

"Really? Me too. Third time I'm reading it."

Freed grinned, and the man back, flicking a remaining tear from his cheek.

"So where are you at in it?"

"I'm at the point where it switches to Baz's point of view," the man said. "Kills me every time—how he hates himself…god."

Freed felt a thrill—the man was queer, or at least not homophobic. Mutual ground.

"Rainbow Rowell really knows how to write emotion in all its complexity. When the two of them finally have their confrontation, I always cry," Freed admitted. "My grandfather gave me that book, and after I read it, he admitted it made him cry too. I think it's universal."

They met each other's eyes again, and Freed held out their hand.

"Freed."

"Laxus."

"Pleasure. So what other books do you recommend?"

"Depends what you read," Laxus laughed.

Freed nodded at the book. "Gay young-adult. Anything, actually—I love reading. But I'm on a streak of seeking out good LGBT books."

Laxus's eyes lit up at this—they felt another thrill.

"I can definitely help there," he said, turning more toward them in the narrow seat. "Ever heard of More Happy Than Not?"

* * *

Both of them were surprised when the pilot announced their descent.

Laxus immediately straightened and gripped the armrests, face paling.

"Not good with landing?" Freed asked, their arm bumping his over the small armrest.

"Turbulence," Laxus said tightly. "Didn't used to fly—I'd throw up. But sometimes I have to…"

Freed nodded sympathetically. Laxus had explained he was coming into town for legal matters. Freed was only slightly disappointed he didn't live local.

"Can I help?" they asked.

Laxus flashed them a brief smile. "Able to keep talking? It kinda helps when I focus on something else."

"Sure. You mentioned earlier you're in urban design? My company actually focuses a lot on that; we do environmental impact analysis for developers. That includes everything from what materials they ought to use for the types of buildings they want, to their location within the city and how they'll affect traffic flow."

"That's really important," Laxus panted. Freed let their hand rest against his a second, and Laxus relaxed a little.

"It's certainly fun. I do more oversight, but I still get to do a fair amount of the analysis, and urban planning is part of that. My latest goal has been to find ways to get stores spread throughout a city rather than centralized in one spot, and to make overhead apartments affordable to draw middle- and low-income demographics…"

* * *

When they disembarked, Laxus was still unsteady on his feet. Freed waited with him until the rest of the plane had gone before hobbling off together, Freed offering to carry his bag.

"Seriously, thank you," Laxus said, stopping at a table outside a closed Starbucks and wiping his face. "That was a lot more survivable than it usually is."

"Any time," Freed smiled, irked a second later because the words were useless—they weren't going to be flying together again. "Hey…do you need a ride anywhere?"

"I've put you through plenty of trouble," Laxus said.

"My car is parked here at the airport. It's not a problem—I live on the other side of the city center from here, and you're probably bunking somewhere near the courthouse, yes?"

"Yeah…" Laxus let Freed's smile draw him in, the blonde shouldering his bag. "Are you sure? I can get a Lyft."

Freed rolled their eyes. "If I minded at all, I wouldn't have offered. Come on. And no offense, but you don't look in any state to be figuring out the wheres and whats of a Lyft right now."

As they walked out into the cool night and Freed led through the shortcut to the parking lot, Laxus chuckled, "You're awfully trusting. I could be some creep."

"I'm more dangerous than I look," Freed said with a wink. "Besides, creeps don't cry reading Carry On."

"Creeps don't read Carry On at all."

"Also true."

* * *

They saw Laxus to his hotel and helped him get his bag from the trunk. Laxus had mostly recovered by then, the pair of them getting into an animated discussion about the pros and cons of Chicago's layout.

"Can I get your card?" Freed asked, flustered when Laxus made eye contact. "Or—or give you mine? I may need someone who knows the finer points of city architecture—not that you need accept the work, obviously; but just in case…?"

"Of course," Laxus said, the pair of them trading cards. "I think I would be interested. Especially if I end up having to stay in Chicago more than a week or two. Local work would be nice."

"Indeed! I'll definitely let you know."

Freed glanced at the card. _Laxus Dreyar._ A nice name.

"And if you need anything while you're here," Freed added nervously, "you can call me. Seriously, feel free. I'm not the kind of person who has a hard time saying 'no' if I need to, so you can't impose."

"Alright," Laxus grinned. "Nice meeting you, Freed. It's not every day one makes a friend on a flight."

"Book people are the best kind," Freed replied.

* * *

They didn't think much about Laxus over the next few weeks. Not overtly, anyway—they mentioned to a friend or two the fun experience of making a (cute and amiable) friend thanks to their favorite book, and they kept Laxus's card upfront on their desk. Sure enough, they did have work requiring someone of Laxus's expertise. They spent half an hour composing an email, and then found they couldn't hit _send._

Sighing, they rose and paced down the hall, ducking in to make a cup of tea and finding their friend and coworker already doing so.

"Hey, you," Mira said with a smile. "How's the Powell-Grieg contract going?"

"So far so good," Freed sighed, rubbing their face. "I need a designer with training adequate for something of this scale."

"What about Bickslow?"

"I already have him on the Wendin project."

"I have a few recommendations," she said. "And hey, didn't you say you met a guy on your flight two weeks ago?"

"I did." They poured themselves a mug of hot water and sifted through teabags. "I wrote him an email."

"Nice. Heard back from him?"

"Um, no."

"Think he'll take you up on it?"

"If I can get the email sent," Freed admitted, selecting Earl Grey.

Pensive, Mira swilled her mug.

"You're anxious about bringing a stranger in?"

"It's not that. I just feel embarrassed, I suppose. He might've forgotten about it already. Or not be interested anymore."

"Then he's not interested. I have two people who could do if he doesn't bite."

For some reason that metaphor irritated them.

"Yes. Thanks."

When they returned to their desk, they found an email sitting in their inbox from—

Laxus Dreyar.

Freed opened it hurriedly and chuckled. They began a reply.

_It's funny you should ask: I was just about to send you the following…_


	2. I Touched the Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laxus has been in town for a week, and shit is depressing and lonely. Meanwhile, Freed can't stop thinking about him.

Laxus sat in his rental car for a long moment before going into the house. He always had to steel himself, and today had been a disheartening day.

The place was cold when he entered—he hadn't turned on the heat when he came by the day before. There seemed no point, except if he were really going to be in the city 'for the near future,' it would be cheaper to stay here than in a hotel.

So here he was.

If the place ended up his at the end of all the proceedings, which seemed likely, it would be good to be familiar with it so he could sell it for a good price. So that was a plus. It'd be nice to afford a long vacation after all this was over.

Shivering, he managed the pilot light and got the heat running, then brought in the two bags of groceries from the car. This cheered him a little: first home-cooked meal in two weeks.

Just like his grandfather would've loved…but Dedushka wasn't going to be cooking or eating or sitting down with him at the small table that sat forlornly in the small dining area. There were only three chairs and the broken leg of the fourth, stains in the old wood, a board over the broken pane of the window.

Laxus decided to eat his supper on the dusty leather sofa instead.

At least the cable bills were paid: the wi-fi was strong and he brought up Netflix—and saw Dedushka's account, and closed it again. He just couldn't right now.

Opening his laptop, he went automatically to email—and saw he had a reply from a _Freed Justine, F&T Development._

He clicked it and his eyes flew over it before he began a reply, smile perking up the corners of his mouth.

* * *

"Thanks for meeting here," were the first words out of Freed's mouth when Laxus strode up.

"Great atmosphere," Laxus said, following as a waiter led them to a table. "Thanks for waiting."

"It's not like you can duck out of court whenever you want," Freed said. "Or can you?"

"No, I can't."

"There you go, then. I'm just glad you're interested. I could definitely use your help if you decide you like the project."

Laxus watched the way Freed's ponytail slid over a shoulder when Freed sat, the way the long fingers brushed over the menu. Freed had looks that were both unique and stunning. Laxus still hadn't decided whether Freed were male, female, or another and was on the point of asking when Freed asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Depends. With what?" Laxus teased.

Freed's flushed smile was pleasant. "Food choices."

"Sure. I have no intolerances."

"Perfect."

When the waiter returned, Freed ordered in startlingly fluent German. Laxus couldn't help staring.

"You're multilingual then?" he asked. "That was impressive."

"Thank you," Freed blushed. "I had a Viennese grandpa who sweetly helped me practice. It became our secret language from the other kids."

"Explains why I didn't understand you," he laughed. "My school taught exclusively High German, because they're pricks. My own grandfather grew up in Vienna too, but I've never spoken it with him."

Smiling, Freed pulled out a folder.

"Before we start," Laxus asked, "can I ask the semi-awkward question of what pronouns you prefer?"

"Oh!" Freed said. "Not awkward at all. I prefer 'they.' Thank you so much for asking."

It was Laxus's turn to be surprised. "Of course."

* * *

The two very quickly found they had the same passion and vision and that Laxus would indeed like to work on the project.

"Your company will be okay with my stealing you for a bit?" Freed asked.

"Yeah. They quite like me: I'm on long-term leave while this whole thing goes down. I've contracted before—and they don't have to know, do they?"

"True," Freed chuckled—Laxus liked how easily he could read them and make them laugh; it gave their interactions a comforting smoothness.

Freed leaned back and rested their fork.

"Do you mind my asking what 'this whole thing' is?" they asked, half-hiding behind a sip of water.

"Only if we sign a contract for the work first," Laxus teased. "No, I don't mind. I'm here to testify against a very not-nice person and hopefully get them put away for good this time."

"Oh, gods. I'm sorry."

He waved a hand.

"Have you read about the Dreyar case at all in the news?"

"Oh." Freed straightened. "I never made that connection. So it's… Oh, gods, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, it's family," Laxus said, filling in all the unsaid things their eyes were asking. "This is technically my hometown. Well, sort of. We moved a lot when I was growing up."

"Military?"

"Asshole father. This is not the first time he's been on trial."

Freed flinched in sympathy, but didn't look away. Laxus liked that they weren't being awkward about this—realized he was pushing more details than he normally would've precisely to see whether Freed would be weird.

They weren't.

"I can't say I understand," Freed said, gaze open and attentive, "because my own father was emotionally absent all of my life. One of the local grandfathers ended up raising a bunch of us. But I can imagine it's hard to even be back here."

"In some ways," Laxus agreed. "Still is a bit strange to walk into the family home—at least it's empty and I don't have to deal with anyone else. But I'm starting to remember the old patterns, you know; the old routines and routes. That's been a bit fun. Jogged my memories of this city."

Freed leaned forward in interest and Laxus grinned.

"You've heard of the old subway tunnels, right?"

* * *

When he got home—however much this place could ever be 'home' to him—Laxus hung up his coat and flumped down on the sofa, a smile on his face. He felt full and content—trusting Freed about the food had been wise—not to mention excited to have something to do in the downtime. Something other than thinking through every detail of whatever had happened in court that day.

Ivan was fighting hard, while across town, Dedushka was struggling to breathe through the machines that were keeping him alive. Laxus's blood began to pulse in his head if he thought about it. There was no fucking witness—but shouldn't it be obvious what the bastard had done? They were the only two at home; Ivan had a history; the neighbors had heard the pair fighting…

Rubbing his face, he thought instead about Freed Justine, new friend and temporary business partner. They were kind and insightful and whip-smart, an excellent conversationalist and—Laxus hoped—good friend. They seemed loyal, the way they talked about those they cared about, and that was a trait Laxus valued highly.

These thoughts and the house's warmth had his eyes closing drowsily.

Eventually he dragged himself up the stairs to the bedroom, deciding a proper night's sleep was a good idea. Freed had asked when he could come by the office, and with everything adjourned tomorrow, he suggested a morning appointment.

His stomach fluttered thinking about it. Having something positive and helpful to do would really help his spirits.


	3. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laxus opens up about his father's trial, and Freed realizes they'd do whatever it takes to make Laxus happy.

"How's the trial progressing?" Freed asked Laxus as the pair of them exited the office. Freed had long since shifted their own work hours to accommodate Laxus's need to be present elsewhere during the days, and it was after seven, the pair of them the last ones out of the building like usual.

"It's alright," Laxus said, in a heavy voice that Freed recognized by now. "I can't believe he's managed to drag this out almost a month."

"You sound like you're losing patience."

"That's the truth. I had lost patience with him before I even came here. Before I got the call that Dedushka was in surgery and they weren't sure he was coming out…"

Laxus dropped off as they got into Freed's car, but Freed turned down the music that swooped to life and turned to stare him in the eye. He looked forlorn and lost, and their heart squeezed.

"I'm so sorry this is happening, Laxus. It isn't fair."

"Not at all," Laxus agreed, not breaking eye contact. "The law is supposed to help people. It's supposed to stop bad people from doing bad things, and get restitution when they manage to do so anyway. When I first came, I was just waiting to see how bad the verdict was. Now I'm wondering if he'll even be convicted."

They shook their head and pulled out of the lot, fingers fluttering briefly over his leg in comfort before grabbing the gear shift.

"I don't suppose there's anything I can do."

"Are you kidding? Thanks to you, I have a side job while this whole thing is going on. I don't have to spend every waking moment angry. That's huge."

Freed shot him a smile which he returned. "I'm glad."

They turned onto Madison Street.

"Do you want to go out to eat?" they asked suddenly. "I know a great little Italian place around the corner that is legit and delicious."

"Thanks," Laxus said, and their heart rose, "but can I take a rain check? I'm exhausted tonight."

"Of course." Freed smiled so he knew they were sincere.

There was a beat of silence, then Laxus said, "I wish we'd met in a better time in my life. I've not been a particularly good friend."

"Laxus, you are away from home and in the middle of incredibly stressful events. You have every right to be preoccupied and tired and whatever else. I only worry that you won't have time to take care of _you._"

Laxus gave a dry chuckle.

"Well, a boxed dinner and sleeping on the couch is at least sustenance and sleep, right?"

"Are you serious?"

"I don't do that normally," Laxus said hastily. "Like I said: just tired."

Freed shook their head. They wondered if Laxus would ever let them do more for him; but they didn't want to hurt his pride, or make him feel indebted. It wasn't like that, and they wanted him to know that: they cared and wanted the best for him. Communicating that in modern culture was always hard.

When they pulled up in front of Laxus's house, they turned off the car.

"The model you asked for is in the trunk," they explained when he raised an eyebrow.

"I can get it."

"Trust me," they chuckled, "even someone your size will need help. I swear Evergreen used solid wood for the whole thing."

"It's her revenge on you for making her write that report," Laxus laughed.

"Wendin was her project! She shouldn't complain," Freed said.

Laxus grinned knowingly.

"Hey, I had a question," he said, panting a little as the pair of them wrangled the model out of the car. "I didn't want to ask her because it would be weird, but are she and Mirajane…?"

"Yes," Freed laughed, "they are a couple. Met at the company, actually. They keep it low-profile at work, but it's hard to miss Mira making eyes at Ever."

"And vice versa."

"Very true."

They both laughed.

They set the model on the lonely dining table that Laxus never seemed to use, and then Freed stood there dusting off their hands, words filling their chest that they weren't sure they should say.

"Thanks for your help," Laxus said, and they knew that was the cue, but…

"Laxus," they said, "may I make you dinner?"

He blinked. "Here?"

"You wouldn't let me take you out," Freed reasoned. As the words came out, they cringed a little at how much that sounded like flirting, like a date—and their gaze shot to Laxus's face, wondering how he would react to that.

"Sure," Laxus said, his smile as easy as ever. "But I insist on helping."

"You said you're exhausted—"

"It'll be faster if there's two of us," he said. "Besides, you don't know where anything is."

Freed huffed but let it be, the pair of them sifting through pantry and refrigerator.

Half an hour later they had a decent meal served on plates, and headed into the living room. Unlike the dining room, it felt lived-in: Laxus's tablet and a mug sat on the low table, with a blanket and slippers at the end of the sofa.

"I thought you said you didn't normally sleep out here," Freed said suspiciously.

"God's honor, I don't," he said. "That's just from this morning. The house is freezing until the heat kicks up."

"You don't have it on a timer?"

"Timer's broken. It's quite an old house."

They sat down and began to eat. Freed was both comfortable and not: it felt awkward to be so informal and friendly, and yet so natural too. They couldn't figure out why their brain was running a hundred kilometers an hour, or why their body felt like they'd been doing this their whole life.

It was easy to chat about this and that, Freed's heart eventually calming down, though their strange alertness did not abate. As they finished up and Laxus made tea, the pair curled up on the sofa and Freed asked, "So what's holding up the trial?"

"Oh, god, half a dozen things. He's a slippery dickhole. I forget how much I've told you… I mentioned the charge for him trying to get to my grandfather in the hospital?"

"He did what?" they said, aghast.

"Tried to go in to see Dedushka… I don't know what Ivan wanted, if he was going to hurt him some more, or just to see him, or hell, even apologize: my dad's brain is a messed-up place only he understands. _I_ think he wanted to finish what he started. He had a couple…heavy tools on him when he got stopped. I'm not sure whether to be thankful or not that they stopped him before he was within fifty meters, because it means he didn't violate the restraining order, but it would've been easier in some ways if he had.

"Anyway, his lawyer claims that whole aspect or charge or whatever needs to be thrown out as misdirection, because he was only trying, misguidedly, to 'make sure his father was safe,' and the whole charge is predicated on the idea that he was the one who attacked Dedushka, blah blah…"

"You have to see him every day, don't you?" they asked quietly.

"Who, Dedushka? I visit him daily."

"No, I mean Ivan."

Laxus nodded. "Yeah. Every fucking day."

Freed shook their head, dislodging their hair and pulling it out of its ponytail.

"I'm amazed at your fortitude for being able to come in after that every day and work three or four hours… I know that's not helpful, to say you're strong and courageous for doing what you're doing, but for what it's worth, it's true."

"My therapist back home said facing my monsters every day would be a wild ride. She wasn't wrong."

Freed was surprised.

"You have a therapist?"

"Honestly, everyone should," Laxus laughed. "Yes, I do. Helped me with a lot of my anger issues over the years. It's _really_ good you didn't meet me a decade ago. I was an asshole."

"I highly doubt that," they smiled, nudging him with their foot.

"Oh, you've seen nothing. Trust me. Asshole."

They snorted and Laxus smiled.

"Well, you're a lovely human being now. I'm sorry you're facing your monsters, but also really impressed with how strong you are doing so."

Laxus bit his lip. They focused on his downcast eyes, trying to forget the blush in their cheeks as Laxus looked into the distance and slowly opened his mouth.

"The reason it's so hard is also that I'm testifying to how awful a father he was. Father, son, human being. He was just bad to everyone. Used to beat me when I was little. I'm eager to see him finally gone for good. I'm waiting for that moment when he realizes it's over. He's been a victorious fucking prick my whole life: always won everything, always got the last word. He's the reason I hardly know Dedushka at all.

"I have to see him put away. For good this time. I have to see it end. I just…I need to know I can move on and he won't ever come back into my life."

In the silence, Freed swallowed, emotions pressing up their windpipe one after another until it was all they could do to keep from crying.

"Laxus," they whispered, reaching out a hand. "You're going to see it. You're going to get that ending. You deserve that. You deserve all of it."

Laxus let them take his hand, Laxus squeezing their fingers. His eyes glistened and he swallowed thickly—reminding Freed of when they first met those months ago, Laxus crying over his book: a lonely gay boy who had the whole world against him.

Laxus had a world against him, too, but he was not going to lose. Like Baz, he'd get his happy ending. He'd get that closure, and answers, and healing. He'd get the love he so needed from those around him.

He'd get there. Freed realized they would do anything to make it happen.


	4. Lost Baggage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching everything Laxus is going through, Freed decides to visit their adoptive grandpa. But what they find out when they do breaks them apart.

"Mira," Freed asked one day, passing her office to get themselves lunch—Freed took it later to accommodate longer days working with Laxus.

"Mm." She flipped through several papers before looking up at them, sobering when she saw their serious face.

"How's Grandpa?"

Her face fell. "Oh, Freed, um…"

"I know he's not well," Freed said hurriedly. "I know about the stroke, and that he's still under care. Lucy's told me. I wanted to visit—immediately, and in the weeks after, and I kept bugging her about it; but she said it was complicated and he wasn't awake and needed rest… I don't know. I tried to look him up at the hospital anyway, but they wouldn't give me any information. I've just been trusting her, but watching everything Laxus has gone through…I've been thinking about family. Do you know how Grandpa is right now?"

"He's…" Mira sighed and rubbed her brow, nodding for them to take the chair. "I assume he's the same. Lucy's been keeping information very close to the chest. I know she'd say if something were really bad. I do know he's still in a coma, which is to be expected because he's had two surgeries—"

"Surgeries?" Freed exclaimed, leaning forward. "For a stroke?"

"His skull was fractured. He fell when it happened."

"Shit. And we still can't see him?"

Mira shook her head. "Lucy hasn't said anything."

"But he's ours, too," Freed protested. "He's the only grandparent I've ever had. We should get…"

They leaned back, rubbing their face before whispering a quiet, "Fuck."

"Ask her," Mira said. "Tell her. I honestly don't know why she's being all protective. It sounded like—like there might be legal stuff. Like, insurance is fighting or something."

Freed sat up straighter.

"I might be able to help then."

"That was ten years ago," Mira snorted, always ready to tease them when it came to their law degree.

"I'm learning more lately."

"Because of Laxus?"

Freed nodded. "And my own research. And hell, if it's real legal issues, Laxus might know where I can get help that took the bar exam instead of starting a business."

The pair shared a smile before falling back into a somber mood.

"I miss him," Mira whispered.

Freed nodded. "Me too."

* * *

Freed decided to find a way to visit Grandpa Vermillion, with or without Lucy's blessing.

The man had practically raised all of them through their teen years and beyond, the passel of kids who lived in the complex. The apartments were low-income, and they had neither good things to do with their time nor guidance on how to accomplish the things they wished they could. Freed remembered Grandpa sitting down, the two of them, and helping Freed fill out college applications. Telling them to apply to the 'big name places' where Freed wanted to go; that their grades—which Grandpa had helped them with by giving them a quiet place to study—were good enough and Freed was smart enough and that their life was worth it if they were willing to take risks.

Grandpa Vermillion was the first person Freed showed their acceptance letter to. Grandpa tacked it up on his fridge—the communal snack fridge, since Grandpa's living room had long since become the favorite hangout. Everyone in the neighborhood had heard—and they'd all patted Freed on the back, congratulated them, told Freed they were proud Freed was getting out. Freed's own parents said nothing about college except that they couldn't afford to pay anything so Freed better have a way to come up with the money.

Grandpa had been their real parent. All of theirs—Lucy, the Strausses, Levy, Natsu Dragneel. And thanks to Grandpa, they'd all gone places. Lucy was a CPA for people who banked millions, Levy was on tenure track at Oxford in fucking England, Natsu and his husband (whom Grandpa had introduced him to) owned a successful construction business…

Grandpa's love had changed Freed's life.

And now Grandpa needed his children, and Lucy, who did his accounts and papers for him with her big brain, was not letting them. Freed didn't understand why, but they felt frustrated and impotent and…

"Freed?"

Freed jerked in their chair.

"Death glare," Laxus teased. "The numbers aren't doing what you want?"

"No," Freed chuckled, staring at the browser page with the hospital's telephone and hours. "I need to call a friend. Be right back."

A few minutes later Laxus found them in the hallway, pacing and arguing into their cell.

"Lucy, please. That's a dumb excuse," Freed sighed, irked. She'd gone on and on about Grandpa Vermillion's health, which was nice to get more info, but she hadn't given anything helpful about visiting him. "I want to see him. It's been nearly six weeks."

Leaning against the wall, Laxus tilted his head. Freed grimaced and held up a finger.

"Wait—what do you mean 'legal troubles'? Mira mentioned something but had no details. _Yes,_ I really want to know. Oh my god! Lucy! It's me!"

Freed thumped the wall in frustration, leaning their head on it and letting out a long breath.

"I'm sorry, too. Yes, I forgive you. And yeah," they smiled wryly, "I love you, too."

Freed could feel Laxus's curious gaze.

"Thank you," Freed finally said, as Lucy at last capitulated. "Spell it? Got it."

When they ended the call, they finally looked up at his questioning face. There was a surprising amount of concern there, Laxus intent and worried, and Freed felt off-kilter for a moment.

"What's going on?" Laxus asked. "And don't say nothing."

Freed, who had opened their mouth, closed it with a wan smile.

"You always say nothing," Laxus said.

"Sorry." They rubbed their face, an excuse to hide in their palms for just a minute. "I need to go to the hospital."

Laxus's eyebrows rose sharply, suddenly alert.

"What happened?"

"Someone—my grandpa. He had a stroke a while back and I haven't gotten to see him. Our friend Lucy…water under the bridge," Freed said, waving a hand. "Point is, I can see him, I have the info, and I know I'm not going to be able to focus until I go."

They looked up regretfully.

"Forgive me for leaving early?"

"Of course."

The pair returned to the conference room where their laptops and too many papers spread themselves willy-nilly. As Freed packed up, they were surprised to see Laxus do the same.

"You're my ride," Laxus pointed out. "Besides, I haven't see Dedushka today. He'll be lonely without his visit."

Laxus's smile twisted down at the corners. Freed's heart cracked.

They drove in silence to the hospital and in the lobby they parted ways. Since making dinner together several weeks ago, it had become something of a tradition a few nights a week, so they agreed to meet back in half an hour. Laxus disappeared.

Feeling cold, Freed walked to the elevator rubbing their arms.

Lucy had accidentally switched the floor and ward numbers, so it took Freed some sorting, and the whole time their heart sank lower and lower. Staff made the place as bright and refreshing as they could, but it was still a place of sickness. It made Freed ache. Grandpa shouldn't be here. They didn't know why they'd waited so long to visit, but maybe it was because they didn't want to believe it, didn't want to treat it like it were serious, didn't want to associate Grandpa with a place like this.

And poor Laxus had to come here every day.

They signed in—it turned out visitors were allowed, and you didn't have to be family, Lucy said, which had funnily enough irritated them more—and found the room. As they pressed on the door, they froze.

Lucy had mentioned Grandfather would be under a different name. "Vermillion is a family name. It's not…his name. Shit. He never wanted anyone to know this. Just…don't pay too much attention, okay?"

Her words were shouts in their ears now, as they stared at the hand-scrawled nameplate:

_Makarov Dreyar_

A gasped sob burst out of Freed's chest. They didn't know where it had come from, but tears were pressing in their eyes.

They stepped back, hand clapping over their mouth to stifle the sounds. Laxus was on the other side of that door. Communing with his _actual _grandfather. While Freed…

They were an impostor. They hadn't known anything. They hadn't even known the true man who raised them into who they were today.

* * *

When Laxus came out, he was a little disconcerted to find Freed sitting across from the nurse's station waiting for him. There was something uncomfortable about that—he knew Freed knew about everything going on, that he himself had told them the story and they'd undoubtedly read the papers telling the grittier details—but it still felt raw here. Nasty, like Freed shouldn't have to see this sad side to his life.

And then he saw that they were crying.

"Shit," he rumbled, hurrying over and dropping to a knee in front of them. Freed didn't seem to see him at first, hands pressed to their eyes as their shoulders shook and tiny sobs jerked out of them. "Freed. Hey, hey… What happened?"

They looked up slowly, eyes red and blank. Laxus, who was about to put his hand on their arm, stopped himself.

"Did you find him?" Laxus asked. "Fuck, did something…is he…?"

"Not dead," Freed said flatly, voice thick. They wiped their face. "No, he's…he's… I didn't know. I didn't know, Laxus. Him. Anything. He hid it from us, and all the time we thought we were the ones the world had turned its back on, _he_… We thought we needed him. But he was just as empty and broken. Maybe he needed us, too. Maybe…shit—I never wanted to—to replace you; I didn't even know you…"

Laxus jerked. "Huh?"

"He's…" Freed gestured behind Laxus.

"My Dedushka?" Laxus asked. "He's still the same. No change; which isn't bad news at least. But wait, what about you. What exactly did he say to you?"

"He's not aw-w-wake—shit," they whispered, dissolving into tears again.

Rising, Laxus took the seat next to them and hesitantly wrapped an arm around their slumping back.

"It's gonna be okay," he murmured, rubbing back and forth. "We'll figure—you'll figure it out. Just breathe…"

It was a relief to comfort them. That was selfish, but it was true. After all Freed had done for him, it was nice to give back. To hold them and know they needed him.

At last Freed got their hiccoughs under control, but they were tenser than ever when they turned to look at him.

"Laxus," they said, "the man I grew up thinking of as my grandfather, the man who raised me _and _Mira _and _a number of our friends…is behind that door." Freed pointed. "Grandpa Vermillion…is Makarov Dreyar."

Laxus stared at the wooden door across the little hall.

Connections washed over him, strange things coming together. Vermillion—that had been his aunt's name. Mother's sister—mother's maiden name, although his mom died before he could remember. Aunt Vermillion and Dedushka were always family, by friendship if not by blood. She'd died nearly a decade ago, but her name still made him smell cigarettes and warm chocolate.

And Dedushka…

Laxus knew he'd had a life. All those years that Ivan had been estranged from everyone, taking Laxus with him. Laxus had seen his grandfather rarely, if at all. They'd reconnected much later, when Laxus was on his own, and they'd had to do the hard part of making up for all the lost years, which both of them were bitter about and nobody was there to answer for.

Ivan had been in prison, then disappeared for a while, then popped up again with a new conviction… And then he'd gotten clean—supposedly, for a third time—and moved in with Dedushka while he got a certificate and worked part-time for whoever would hire an ex-con. There weren't many.

"He's getting his life back on track," Dedushka would say when he and Laxus spoke on the phone. Laxus never spoke with his father: it was always Dedushka. His father could rot. But Dedushka hadn't been willing to give up on Ivan yet.

This was where it had gotten him.

This revelation—that Freed knew this man whom Laxus had only gotten to know in the last five years, had long memories and years of knowing him, had been shaped by Makarov Dreyar in those formative early years—gave new shape to Dedushka and to Freed. Dedushka had taken in other children; something about that sounded right. Dedushka loved people, and children, and helping others.

Freed had curled in on themself, rocking now under Laxus's arm, whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Laxus pulled them into a hug, if only to stop the jittery movement of their body.

"Do you want to see him?" he asked.

"What?" Freed gasped, looking up with pain and fear and the sheen of so many smeared tears.

"Do you want to see him?"

"No," Freed said, pushing backward into Laxus's arm, away from the door. "No, no, I can't when he's your… Shit, I couldn't."

"Alright."

Rising, Laxus tugged Freed to their feet and wrapped an arm around them again to guide them down the hall when it became clear Freed could not locomote on their own.

"W-Where are we going?" they asked, between sniffs and half-stifled sobs.

"Home," Laxus said.

They made it down to the garage, Laxus focusing on keeping Freed's shivering body close and away from obstacles or tripping hazards.

"Keys," he said as they reached Freed's car.

"What?"

"You can't drive in that state. Give me your keys."

Without argument, Freed handed them over and they both got into the car in silence.

Laxus pulled into the road, knowing this route well enough between public transit and driving around the city with Freed. Glancing at a street sign, he got over quickly and turned at the next intersection. Now where was…

"You're not mad," Freed said.

"Of course not."

"Why?"

Laxus glanced over. "Should I be?"

"I—I basically _stole_ your grandfather and… Jesus Christ, turns out I don't even know him. And yet I love him and have all these memories of him quizzing me and Mira for our history test, and trying to make popsicles with him and Lisanna, and Lucy squirreling her books away in his apartment since her parents kept throwing them out as 'too liberal.' He was…our parent. And he…"

They shook their head.

"I don't know what to think," they whispered.

"Me neither," Laxus admitted. "But I'm not mad. He's okay, Freed. Do you know that? He's in a coma, but they've put everything back together in his head and they say things are healing well. His last scan looked really good, especially for his age. He just has to wake up."

Freed hiccoughed.

As they pulled up in front of Laxus's house—Dedushka's house, the house where Ivan had tried to murder him—Freed looked out blearily and made a sound of confusion.

"Oh, come on. Like I was going to take you to your flat like this."

He led the way and aimed Freed toward the sofa with a gentle touch—it seemed the one thing they responded easily to at the moment—before disappearing in the kitchen.

"I hope you like beef stroganoff," Laxus called. "It's the only leftovers I have."

Their hum did not object.

At last, they sat across from each other on the sofa with plates of lukewarm food, Laxus staring at Freed in concern while Freed looked down, desolate and exhausted. They looked dismal with their eyes still bloodshot and their hair disheveled from what looked like tugging on it. He just wanted to wrap them up and make them feel better.

"Eat," Laxus insisted as Freed stared at the plate. "It'll help."

"I should go," Freed said.

"No, you should eat. And then you're sleeping here."

Wide-eyed, Freed jolted.

"I still have your keys." Laxus tapped his pocket. "You're staying here where you're not alone and where you can't crash off a bridge and kill yourself because you're too distraught to pay attention to where you're going."

"There's no bridges between here and my apartment," Freed mumbled, taking a bite.

Laxus couldn't suppress a small smile.

* * *

Freed was sleeping over with Laxus. With their business partner. In his house, in the place where Freed had realized a couple weeks ago that they were quite possibly a little emotionally attached.

There were other problems, too.

"No, you're taking the bed, Justine, and you're going to like it," Laxus said, eyebrow up in a way that brooked no argument. "Pardon me saying it, but you look like you got run over. I'm not making you sleep on the fucking couch."

"But—"

"You can find a spare toothbrush under the sink. I just washed linens, so everything is clean. Do you need to wake up at a certain time?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday," they reminded him.

"Right. Guess neither of us has to be anywhere for once. That helps. Sleep in. If I hear you creeping around down here early in the morning, I am going to chain you to the bed, I swear to God."

At that, Freed gave a weary smile. He was so damn insistent. It was sweet, and Freed realized they _needed_ this: someone taking care of them. It had been a day with too much for them to handle.

Laxus's expression and his care and his hard softness reminded them of Grandpa Vermillion. Grandpa Dreyar.

Laxus had clearly gotten the good genes.

"Laxus," they said softly, their tone catching him as he turned to the door. "Thank you."

His gaze gentled.

"Sleep well, Freed."

That night, surrounded by Laxus's foreign scents, they stared at the ceiling wondering if they'd sleep at all—

In minutes they were sleeping more deeply than they had in a long, long time.


	5. No Parachute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After watching Freed break apart, Laxus keeps careful watch over them the next day. But then something happens that breaks _him._

Freed slept for almost ten hours.

Laxus puttered around about the house, tiptoeing quietly. Instead of lazing in his bed like he usually would on a weekend, he got through a number of the handy-type chores around the house: fixing the leaky faucet, spackling the holes in the drywall in the unused guest bedroom, and taking apart the timer for the heater.

He was just figuring out each of the half-dozen wires when he heard the sound of the shower. Finishing up, Laxus headed to the kitchen.

* * *

Waking up in Laxus's house was strange. Upon waking, Freed had a sense of peace, everything quiet and comforting; then they opened their eyes to the unfamiliar room and began to panic; then they remembered Laxus had brought them home, and a different type of tension beat in their chest.

Then they smelled breakfast, and their stomach rumbled.

When Freed left the shower, they discovered the inconvenience of trying to dry long hair with only a towel and no hair dryer. They managed as best they could.

"Hey," they said, looking in the kitchen and seeing Laxus's body emerging from under the sink.

There was a clunk.

"Just a…second…" Laxus said.

Spying eggs and toast on the sideboard, Freed bypassed the food and crouched beside him, peering past the tangle of Laxus's arms into the small space.

"Leaking pipe?"

"The garburator didn't work. It should now."

He rose and Freed flicked the little switch beside the sink. The disposal sang its guttural song.

"Nice job," Freed smiled. "I didn't know you were handy. Although," they glanced around, "I suppose I should've guessed. You've cleaned this place up a lot, haven't you? Since the first time I came here."

"Yeah, that's been my distraction. My _other_ distraction."

"Maybe I need to work you harder," they teased.

"I'm not sure that would be good for _you,_" Laxus said. "You already work twelve-hour days."

"I do not," Freed scoffed, accepting the plate Laxus handed them and leaning on the counter across from him.

"Nuh-uh," Laxus raised an eyebrow, "Mira snitched. I know you're there before eight, and _we_ don't leave until after eight or nine some days."

Blushing a little at the pointed stare, Freed focused on the food on their plate.

"So you fix the house up when you're not puttering around with us at F&T?" they asked.

"Yeah, everything but painting. I'm terrible at that."

"How can you be terrible at painting? You just wave a brush over the wall."

"I somehow leave drips everywhere. Don't ask me how."

Freed laughed, which made him smile, and said, "Well, if you need the help, I'm a dab hand at it."

"Noted," Laxus chuckled.

As they both inhaled, Freed glanced around the kitchen and into the breakfast area, where the small dining table and three lonely chairs sat.

"You know, looking at it now…that's the same table," they said softly. "I did my homework at that table. Not in this house, of course—he lived in my complex: that's how I knew him. I've never visited him here."

They glanced at Laxus to see how he was reacting.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "He's only lived here a few years. In the downturn; he got a good deal. I visited him to check it out actually." Laxus motioned. "That table, huh?"

"Yeah. There used to be a lot more chairs around it; he'd have a dozen of us over at a time. All laughing and talking and doing our homework or begging snacks off him or telling him how our days went. Most of us had only one parent—I had two, but both of mine worked eighteen-hour days just like everyone else's. And what teenager talks to their parents, anyways?

"He was our confidante. He walked me through my…" Freed laughed. "My first relationship and breakup. He…helped Mira when her prom date…well, that's her story. And our friend Natsu got beat up a lot, and Grandp—M-Makarov surprised us all by knowing how to fight and teaching all of us how to defend ourselves. He pretended to be Natsu's dad and would sign him out of school sometimes to give him a break. He was just…amazing."

Freed sighed and shook their head.

"He's the reason you speak German?" Laxus asked with a shy smile.

"I—yes. How did you know that?"

"You told me. Our first dinner out, talking about your work. You said you had a Viennese grandfather."

"Oh." Freed flushed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. You can call him that, Freed. I don't mind."

"G-Grandpa? But…" They closed their eyes, trying to find words. "He's _yours._ You didn't have him for so many years—I know that's not my fault, but you have him now. I don't want to take that away from you."

"You're not. Freed," Laxus leaned forward, "we share a grandfather. I think that's pretty cool. We met on a plane, for godsakes. And then became coworkers, and friends, and now we find out we're kind of not-by-blood family."

"It makes the world seem small," Freed agreed, smiling and shyly meeting his eyes. Laxus looked coaxing, head down and eyebrows up, leaning so nonchalantly against the counter with his sleeves rolled up.

Freed had to look away from him before they blushed.

Instead, their eyes traced the crack in the opposite wall. Using it as an excuse to move, they walked over and touched the curving gash.

"Haven't fixed this yet?" they asked.

To their surprise, there was a heavy sigh.

"I haven't had the heart," Laxus said. "Honestly, I choose to forget it's there most of the time."

"Is this…?" They threw him a questioning look.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded, "that's from my dad. He pinned Dedushka to the wall and…later threw a chair at him, from what we can tell. Bruises on Dedushka's neck and shoulder, and splinters in a wound on his arm. It was a pretty violent fight."

"I didn't know." Freed sagged against the table. "I just knew he had a stroke: that was it. It was all Lucy would tell us."

"She's the blonde who handles his financial stuff? Think I've seen her a couple times."

Freed nodded, but in their heart was heaviness.

"Do you think I could…help?" they asked slowly. When Laxus blinked, they clarified, "You. Around the house. Today—I've got nothing to do… If I'm honest, I really don't want to go home and just think in circles about how everything has gone to shit for people I care about."

"Yeah. I'd welcome the help. I've got spare sweats—wait, Freed, isn't that a different button-up from yesterday?"

"I keep a change of clothes in my computer bag," Freed coughed. "For when I stay the night at the office."

"Freed," Laxus said, exasperated, motioning Freed to follow him into the other room. "You're going to work yourself in to the ground."

"I won't," Freed laughed. "I've been like this all my life. Trust me, it's just who I am."

Laxus turned around, which stopped Freed in their tracks, the two of them very close in each other's space; Laxus looked at them seriously and Freed couldn't seem to back up.

"I know I'm an outsider," he said, "so forgive me for saying this, but… Don't turn into your parents. Working all the time. You have friends, people who love you. You're not starving; you can afford to stop. Breathe. Take a break."

"I…yeah," Freed said, blinking at his sincerity. "That's good advice."

"Not that you'll take it," Laxus snorted.

"Oh, hah. You don't know that."

"I know you well enough to know you hate being told what to do," Laxus said, grinning over his shoulder as he led the way upstairs.

Freed laughed along with him. It felt good to laugh, to joke around together. Laxus did know them. And that gave Freed a special reassurance.

* * *

Laxus truly could not paint.

"It's just a wall!" Freed laughed. "A giant flat surface and one color!"

Laxus flicked his brush at them. Freed, who was wearing a pair of Laxus's old workout clothes, stuck their tongue out.

"Speckle me all you like, I'm still better than you," they teased.

So the morning went, on into the afternoon, playing around as they ate sandwiches and talked about everything from childhood memories to ideas about the future.

"I was originally going to sell the house; he'll be unlikely to manage stairs for a while, and he'll need help, and this place is huge. But I'm getting attached to it," Laxus said.

"When he wakes up, I'm sure he wouldn't mind his grandson coming to live with him for a while," Freed said with a smile.

"Yeah." Looking around, Laxus suddenly winced. "My leave from my work will only last so long, though. At the end of two months, I have to be back."

"I'd hire you."

Laxus chuckled like it was a joke.

"What? You're an amazing drafter and you know how to handle the clients. And you can beat me at poker." Freed grinned at him.

"That's only because you're so incredibly easy to read."

"I am not! I always used to win. Bickslow thinks you must be cheating."

Laxus chortled and sucked jam off his fingers, a move which made Freed focus on their own sandwich.

"I know it can't happen, but if we could keep you in Chicago, we would all be quite happy about it," they said quietly.

A funny little frown twitched above Laxus's smile, and he opened his mouth.

Freed's phone went off.

"Sorry, it's Lucy," they said, and Laxus waved a hand. "Hey, Lucy, how's—"

* * *

Freed cut off abruptly and their mouth dropped open.

Laxus tensed into alertness.

"No, wait, but…" Freed looked at Laxus, confused, almost lost. "There's been no—that doesn't…"

"Just _come._" The woman's voice was loud enough for Laxus to hear it.

"Okay," Freed murmured.

When they put down the phone, the expression they gave Laxus made his stomach drop out.

"It's Grandpa Vermillion," they said shakily. "She went to visit him this morning. But something's wrong and he's…they've already revived him twice."

Laxus was on his feet, but his legs didn't know what to do.

"Come," Freed said, face hardening as they grabbed for his hand. "Give me my keys. I'm driving."

* * *

It was the fastest Freed—or anyone, in Laxus's opinion—had ever gotten through the Chicago metropolitan area.

Laxus got a call from the hospital halfway there; "I'm on my way," was all he said.

They squealed into a parking spot, ejecting from the vehicle. Laxus was aware of nothing, and they reached the hospital room in what felt like record time. And then, quite suddenly, Laxus didn't know what to do.

"Freed." A blonde woman ran up to them and wrapped Freed in a hug. "They haven't told me anything new."

"What happened?" Laxus begged.

"Who…?"

"Sorry, this is—"

"Laxus," Lucy filled in. "Yes, I remember now. You two know each—?"

"Later," Freed cut her off. "What's going on?"

"He started having some sort of seizure. I was in the room when it happened—after yesterday, I…just really needed to see him, you know? Even though he's not responsive. Nurses rushed in and the next thing I knew they were saying something about his heartbeat going erratic, and he'd stopped breathing… It was awful. They got him stabilized, but he still twitched from time to time, and then thirty minutes ago it happened again. They've been in there with him this whole time. That's all I know." She looked at Laxus. "I'm sorry."

"It's…I know they never tell you much," Laxus said, putting out a hand. He needed to sit down. Desperately.

When Freed touched his arm, he started, but Freed simply pulled him over to an uncomfortable sofa and pulled him down. "Sit. Lucy, you too; you look distressed. Coffee? I'll get one for you both."

They disappeared.

"You still come here to visit every day?" Lucy asked after minute.

"Yeah."

Everything was so quiet. Why was it so sterile and beeping and smelly and weird? He hated it.

"I just want him to wake up," he said.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Me too."

Laxus had zoned out when suddenly Freed was pressing coffee into his hands.

"It'll help," they murmured, touching his hair for a brief second—and for a second, Laxus's pulse spiked, jumpy and hyperaware as Freed turned and handed Lucy her own cup. Suddenly, he wanted Freed to hold him, tears pressing up like without their arms he would fall apart. He pressed this down, and their caring eyes turning on him helped him calm.

"I'm going to see what I can find out," they said, still in that gentle voice that reminded Laxus to breathe, take a sip, relax.

Dedushka would be okay. He was healing so well. And Dreyars were hardy.

It was some time before Freed returned. At their footsteps, Laxus looked up quickly: their expression was neither relieved nor sad, but somewhere in between.

"He's stable," they said, and Laxus waited for the 'but'… "but they're keeping a close watch on him. Apparently this—having seizures—is something that can happen to victims of traumatic brain injury or stroke."

"And he's both," Laxus rumbled, squeezing the empty, well-crumpled cup in his hand.

"Yes. So it's not entirely outside expectations. The good news is it'll go away with time. The bad news is it might take a few years."

"_Years?_" Lucy exclaimed.

"Two or three," Freed nodded, biting their lip.

"Fuck," Laxus murmured to himself, dropping his head and staring at the floor. They could accommodate this. His mind spun with ideas: carpet instead of hard floors, railings…but he'd want to be _here,_ where he could help, where he could live with Dedushka and make sure he got appropriate care. He couldn't leave it all to someone else, someone just paid to do it. Someone who didn't know and love him.

"Hey," Freed said, very close, squeezing in next to him on the padded bench. "Here, give me your hand."

Laxus held it out, and Freed took it, but not to hold: they smoothed over his palm and pressed down, slowly massaging his fingers.

"That…feels nice," he said.

"It always helps me relax. They said we should check in an hour or so from now and we might be able to see him then."

"An hour."

"Yes. Want to go for a walk? Lucy will be gone for a little bit."

Laxus looked around and found her absent. "Where…?"

"Food," Freed said, squeezing his hand. "She said so, but you were in your own headspace."

Once outside, Laxus stared up at the massive buildings around them. Towers scraping the sky with their sharp points and angles.

"Why are they never rounded?" he muttered.

"Design materials and physics," Freed answered. "Shall we?"

They walked the block together, crossing over a main avenue to a slightly less intimidating shopping district. There was still a Starbucks on every corner and brand signs taller than Laxus, but at least some of the shops in here looked to be more of the local variety.

"I love this city," Freed sighed.

They had their hands in their pockets. Laxus was constantly in fear of bumping shoulders with them—once was fine, but too many times would be weird. Yet—or maybe thus—his steps were uneven and it was hard not to either run into Freed or walk too far away. Because that would be weird too.

It would be easier if they held hands, but Laxus was a big man, and big men did not offer to hold hands with their smaller friends. Big men were scary and intimidating. Laxus had spent much of his life separated from others simply by his size.

"I see you slumping over there. I know this may not mean anything, Laxus, but believe me…it's going to be okay. It's a lot to take in; I know it's bad. But seizures are survivable. He'll get through. He'd never give up."

"I know." Laxus inhaled, stretching his back and looking down at Freed with a sad smile. "Freed, when I leave…would you watch over him for me? Go over every week and visit him—or hell, once a month. Just…keep an eye on him. Would you?"

"Of fucking course," Freed said, surprised. "Goddess, every day if I can. I wouldn't do anything else. We'd resorted to texts and skyping lately, but that's over. You were right earlier: I do overwork. And it means I don't see anyone who doesn't work at F&T. I haven't spoken to Natsu or his husband Gray in I don't know how long. And Lucy comes by every other month for lunch, but that's not enough. Because…you never know what's going to happen."

"Yeah." Laxus breathed out through his lips. "You can only control right now."

Freed nodded and readjusted their posture.

It took Laxus a moment to notice their hand outstretched in question.

Inhaling, Laxus took it and smiled.

* * *

They spent longer walking than they expected. When they arrived back, the waiting room was empty of all but staff.

"I thought Lucy would be back by now," Freed frowned.

Laxus led the way to the front desk.

"Is it alright to see him?" he asked the nurse—all the regular faces knew him by now.

"Yes. Your sister's already in there."

He didn't correct her, turning to the door. Freed did the same, the pair staring at it, then at each other.

When Laxus entered, it hit him hard in the gut: the room he'd been to every day for three months, and yet his Dedushka had almost died in here not hours ago.

Freed's shaky breath caught his ear.

"Freed?" Lucy had noticed it too. "Are you okay?"

"He's so pale," Freed murmured, coming the rest of the way in and shutting the door. "And at the same time, he looks like he always did. Just…in here."

"I know," Lucy agreed.

She had taken Laxus's usual seat, so he circled around to a chair on the other side, Freed coming to stand by the foot of the bed, reaching out tentatively to touch Dedushka's shin.

"Hello, Grandpa," Freed whispered with a sad smile.

"C'mere." Laxus pulled Freed down onto a stool. "Are you okay?"

"Seeing him like this is just shocking," Freed said. "I'll be alright."

So they sat around talking quietly, while monitors beeped and whirred.

Laxus heard the change in the rhythm of the beeps first. It was slight, and he glanced over: everything looked the same. But the rhythm sped up further; Laxus tensed; and the door opened and a nurse _and_ doctor entered.

"I need you to back up," the nurse said, kind but perfunctory. The doctor was looking in Dedushka's eyes with a light, and the nurse adjusted something else, the pair trading quiet words and phrases Laxus didn't understand.

"What…" he tried to ask, but he had no voice.

The beeps were still frantic, and the nurse was being busily efficient. Things were happening, and here Laxus was. Unable to do anything. Not even sure what was going on.

At least Freed was at his shoulder.

"Ah, there he is," the doctor said, and her alert voice got his attention. Shifting, he got a look at Dedushka's face—

His eyes were open, blinking. Laxus made a choked sound.

"Awake at last," the doctor said, offering Makarov her smile as he blinked more.

"Dedushka?" Laxus called, voice shaking.

His grandfather didn't look over at him, but that didn't concern him as much: the point was that he was awake.

"He's going to be confused for a little while," the doctor said.

"Do we need to leave?" Lucy asked, sounding like she didn't really want to.

"No," she said, sending a little shock through Laxus's body. "He's doing quite well. Heart rate is elevated, but not overly much. He is doing the hard work of opening his eyes; at the moment, that's a strenuous activity. Don't ask him any questions, but you can stay here and keep talking to him gently. Hold his hand if you want, but don't crowd him. I'm leaving the door open, as I'm going to be in and out for the next while."

"Alright," Freed said, and Laxus heard her leave.

Laxus felt their hands on his arms, rubbing up and down. It brought life back to his muscles.

"Dedushka," he said.

Makarov's eyes began to wander.

He twitched his fingers and Laxus grabbed his hand.

At the responding squeeze, Laxus's heart burst. He bent his head and fell apart.


	6. Terminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laxus is breaking. And Freed has so many ways they want to help, but they're too in love with him to know what's appropriate.

Laxus couldn't cry quietly. Not right now. With Makarov's eyes wandering the ceiling, _awake,_ and all the tension of three months of waiting, of fearing, of hoping he'd wake up was bursting…

The sobs shook him. Trying to find grounding, he kept a grip on his grandfather's hand. Freed was a comforting presence beside him, but Laxus needed more; reaching out blindly, he found Freed's hand and squeezed that too.

Now he had both of them. The two reasons why he should never, ever leave Chicago.

* * *

Freed drove Laxus home in quiet, glancing over every so often at Laxus staring out the car window. They stopped by their flat to grab things for what would likely be another stay over, then took him home.

Laxus reflected no surprise when they walked him to his door, giving them a tired, lingering smile.

"Sit," they said gently. "Want some tea? Anything to eat?"

"Just tea," he rumbled, sinking into the sofa like it was a quag.

When Freed handed him a hot mug and sat, curling their feet under them, Laxus heaved a sigh.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm sorry about today. I don't know what that was."

Freed bit their lip, then after a moment put a hand on his arm. But their words halted as they saw Laxus look down at their hand for a moment, his expression unreadable.

It was so hard, being touchy-feely friends, trying to know where the line was on consensual and appropriate touch. Harder still when you liked them.

"Your grandfather finally woke up, Laxus," they pointed out. "It's fine to be emotional."

Laxus chortled and smiled down at their hand, still looking tired.

"Hell, it's always fine," Freed continued. "Remember how we met?"

Several expressions flitted over Laxus's face and ended on amusement.

"With me crying over a book?"

"I wish I were as a brave as you," Freed said. "I'm still embarrassed to cry a lot of the time."

"Like last night?"

"Yeah." Freed retracted their hand and rubbed their face. "I feel a strong urge to apologize, but considering what I just told you, that would be hypocritical."

This time Laxus's laugh was the quiet rolling kind, warm and relaxing.

"Can I say something that might be super weird but might be comforting?" he asked.

"Of course."

"It was...kind of nice to be there with you—for you. You're not vulnerable very often. It felt nice to be able to help? And be trusted? Obviously I'm not happy about you crying," Laxus said quickly. "But thank you for...letting me help?"

"I was kind of falling apart," Freed said wryly. "Not like I could hide it from you."

Laxus shrugged uncomfortably. "Still. Thanks."

Freed breathed deeply several times.

"I feel like I _am_ vulnerable," they murmured. "I've told you many things I don't tell people outside the F&T family."

"I didn't mean...like that," Laxus said lamely.

"I _want_ to be open. I'm sorry if I'm not. You're always allowed to ask questions. I do trust you."

They spoke each word with a sincerity that they felt in their gut. Laxus's skin flushed and he looked at his hands.

"I don't have many friends back home," he said, and they tilted their head, feeling like the topic change was a little out of the blue.

"Yeah?" they prompted, leaning their head against the sofa-back, curled to face him across the cushion.

Nodding, Laxus readjusted to look them straight on.

"I just kept thinking today...why do I keep planning as if I'm heading back? It's the default thing, you know: you take care of sick relatives, deal with legal issues, then return to your 'normal' life. But what if I don't want to? I haven't gotten to be a part of Dedushka's life the way I wanted to...basically ever. He's going to need help. What if...what if instead of hiring people to take care of him and breaking up my routine with expensive visits every month or so, I stayed here? Lived with him—at least until he's back on his feet. Where I live, where I work...it really doesn't matter much to me whether it's there or here. The things I care about are here. Why am I living by this 'you must return' script?"

"You really would stay?" Freed asked, something coiling tight in their belly.

"Yes?" Laxus glanced at them.

"I've already said I will hire you full-time," Freed said, feeling Laxus's eyes as they massaged their own fingers. "I think that's a lovely idea. You can be here with your family, get to be with the person you love and help him through this. And you'll have friends in us, if you want."

"Good, th-thank you. Yes." He smiled. "You're part of why I'd stay too."

Freed's heart flipped up, even knowing it wasn't aimed directly at _them;_ didn't mean what they _wanted_ it to mean—still.

"We are?" they asked, unable to hide their hopeful smile.

"Yeah. _You_ are," Laxus said, emphasizing the word.

"We really like having you," Freed said, too terrified of that emphatic _you_. "You fit right into our family. I think everyone will be sad if you move back. I know I w-will."

Grinning, Laxus grabbed his tea off the table and took an exploratory sip.

"Can I make you dinner?" he asked. "Since you're here. Let me feed you before you head home."

"Will you be alright if I leave?" Freed asked, following him to the kitchen.

"What?" Laxus blinked around at them in surprise. "I'll live. It was just shocking, is all. A realization, I guess. An epiphany."

"I can stay if you don't want to be alone," they told him seriously, hoping it sounded like a friendly offer, and not like the needy words of someone who just wanted to spend as much time around him as possible. Because they _were_ offering as a friend: they would do this regardless of liking him. They just...also liked him.

"Let's eat first," Laxus said, squeezing their shoulder—Freed wasn't expecting the touch, and so felt the electric jolt in their gut when they couldn't control their emotions.

Wow.

They couldn't truly say whether staying tonight was a good or bad choice, but it was the one they'd make every time.

* * *

Laxus enjoyed cooking with Freed. Now that they were comfortable in his kitchen, the pair of them would move easily around each other, handing each other things, giving little touches to let the other know they were passing behind in the narrow space.

Laxus liked it. He liked their hand nestled in the small of his back as they squeezed by.

It would be nice to always have this. He wondered if Freed would ever be interested in having a roommate.

"Did you steal the salt?" Laxus asked, turning when he didn't find it in its usual place.

"Oops, yes. Here, lov—Laxus," Freed said.

There was a brief meeting of eyes, and Laxus saw theirs widen at their mistake.

Freudian slips meant someone mixing their words out of wishful desire…

When Freed danced over to the far counter to finish what they were doing, Laxus watched them: the swirl of their hair, the swagger of their gait.

"Have you always had long hair?" he asked.

They flicked it mindlessly behind an ear. "All my life. It was down to my knees by the time I was in third grade."

"Anyone ever make fun of you for it?"

"Surprisingly, no. When I was in elementary school, as you might imagine I never really saw anything wrong with being a girl, or anything special in being a boy; they were both cool. So when someone called my hair 'girly-girl hair' and it was clear they meant it as an insult—I wasn't even thinking about my own gender, just that I was being made fun of for something dumb. So I punched them. Nobody said anything to me after that."

"You punched someone in elementary school?" Laxus burst out in a laugh.

"Yes. I'm stronger than I look," they said, with something almost resembling a pout. "I bloodied him pretty badly: he fell down and scraped his face up on the concrete. I got in trouble, but I got a lot of respect for that from the other kids. Acting confident and punching bullies goes a long way when you're seven."

"Can't believe you punched someone," Laxus chortled. "You're so smooth as an adult."

"I wouldn't punch someone _now,_" Freed protested.

"Really?" He grinned. "For anything?"

"Well, maybe if someone I knew was in trouble. Depends on the situation. But if people talk smack about me, I just don't do business with them. It's worked for me so far. I lost a client or two, but gained just as many, too." They shrugged.

"Man. Bruce Wayne by day and Batman by night."

"Oh, ha," Freed snorted. Their grin turned sly. "I'm more of an Ironman."

"You're not enough of an asshole."

"I can change that," Freed pointed out. They brought over the finished sauce and handed it to Laxus at the stove. "I can be an asshole if I want."

"I doubt you actually can," he said, smiling at the pleasure that bloomed on their face.

"Want me to try?" they teased.

"No. I like you as you are."

Freed blushed.

* * *

They talked about inane things while curled up on the sofa eating—etiquette had long since been abandoned when they ate at home. Despite the day-to-day topics, their conversation kept drawing toward the idea of Laxus staying in Chicago.

"There's a part of me that wants to call first thing on Monday and give notice," Laxus laughed. "Another part of me keeps saying that's rash and I should think it through. Except I know myself, and I know I won't change my mind. It's just weird to jump without a safety net."

"You have a safety net," Freed retorted. "You have a place to live and friends who care for you. You have an ongoing contract with F&T and a full-time job offer. You have family. You even found a new therapist the other week, wasn't it? You've got everything."

"The way you talk makes me braver. Or stupider, hard to tell." He winked.

Their smile turned into a yawn. They glanced at their watch.

"How do we always end up staying up this late?" they asked. "We're both early risers."

"Good food, good company." Laxus rose. "C'mon. You take the bed again tonight. If the guest room isn't too musty, I'll sleep in there."

"I'm not going to steal your bed from you," they protested. "You're the one—"

"It's the host's orders, Freed. I don't know what state the guest mattress is in. Trust me."

"Host's orders?" they laughed.

"Yup. If you don't do what I say, there'll be punishment."

"Hah. I'd like to see you try."

Laxus opened his mouth to reply to this flirty comment, but couldn't seem to find anything; all the blood had rushed into his face instead and he was smiling and embarrassed.

"You would, would you?" he said. "C'mon," he said again, holding out a hand to pull Freed to their feet.

He pulled harder than they expected, or they rose faster than he anticipated, something—Freed overbalanced and tumbled into him. Their hand on his chest stopped them from a collision, but then Freed didn't remove their hand immediately, glancing up in a burst of unmasked nerves.

Grabbing their hand, Laxus covered it with his own and held it there, over his heart, desperately hoping the glance had been what it looked like and he wasn't misinterpreting.

They looked up at him again.

"Thank you for everything," he told them. "I really do appreciate it."

As they blushed prettily, they ran their thumb back and forth over his chest. "You're welcome. It's always there. My support."

"Freed," Laxus said tremulously, and discovered his heart was pounding so hard it made breathing difficult—surely Freed could feel it through his skin.

He found himself leaning in, growing closer to Freed.

Their eyes went enormously round, lips parted, mouth tipping up toward him as their gaze skipped down to his lips.

Laxus bent in and kissed them.

His heart was beating in his throat now, and his breath stuttered as his lips lingered on theirs, began to pull away, then pressed in again. As if he could stop after just one tiny kiss.

Shifting up on tiptoe, Freed kissed him back.

Their lips moving on his had the same effect as a warm fire, or the gentle spray of the ocean. Enlivening and calming.

Afraid of falling over, he pulled their arm around him and embraced them properly. Freed's fingers found the curve of his back immediately, stuttering over his spine, rubbing into the ridge of his shoulder. Laxus could hardly believe how good it felt to clasp their waist, thumbs running over their hips, then back up over the skin beneath their ribs. At some point, their shirt, which had come untucked when they stretched up to kiss him, wrinkled under his fingers and the next touch was on soft, bare skin.

Freed shuddered and kissed him harder. Much harder.

They were moving against him now, whole body engaged in the kiss, lips trying to get at his own, tongue dipping into his mouth in flirtation. Using his grip on their waist to keep them steady, Laxus flirted right back, tasting them, twisting for more contact and enjoying their rapid breaths on his cheek.

Eventually they broke apart, but it was only for a second, Freed giving a little, high-pitched laugh while their legs wobbled and they returned to flat feet. Laxus dove in and kissed them again, desperately, and when Freed pulled him down onto the sofa, he sat heavily beside them and pulled them tight against him.

With the height difference reduced a little, Laxus let one of his hands wander up, squeezing their bicep, flicking along their shoulder and collarbone, and gliding into their hair. It was as smooth as he could've imagined, his fingers combing through it easily. At the movement, Freed moaned into the kiss, and Laxus did it again, taking more hair between his fingers.

A very strong part of him wanted to say, _This is mine now._

"Laxus," Freed gasped, pulling away from the kiss in a breathless burst and fisting their hands in his shirtfront. "Laxus."

They were panting hard and their lips were red. Laxus wanted to keep kissing them. He also wanted to make sure they were okay.

He had just kissed them. Sort of out of the blue.

They kept on panting, no more words coming out, so Laxus brought his hand to their temple gently and pushed wayward hair out of their face. With an unconscious smile, he continued down the path of their face until his fingers stopped under their jaw.

Freed was looking at him closely.

And while looking Laxus in the eye, they leaned in and kissed him again.

Laxus found himself shaking. Trembling as they smoothed over his shirt and massaged up his shoulders with their nimble hands. Fuck, if they kept going…

"Freed, do you…"

He trailed off as they kissed under his jaw and down his neck, small nibbling bites joining the heat of extravagant kisses. With a groan, Laxus let his hand on their chin fall, instead smoothing up and down over their thigh.

Freed shifted closer so that their thigh was just on the point of shifting over his legs.

"Freed," he groaned again.

Sucking at the hollow of his throat, Freed pulled back with some effort and panted, looking up at him with a thousand emotions on their face.

"Maybe we should stop," they said, eyes serious but a tiny laugh escaping too. "Just, you know. Before…"

Laxus nodded, already dizzy with everything they'd done. Time to stop before the both of them reached a point where they didn't want to stop anymore.

He wanted to savor these kisses. He wanted to know what this could mean going forward. He wanted to make sure this wasn't the high of the moment, because the feelings terrified him and he could already tell he wanted this to be a lot more than bodies.

Feelings crashed over him and he beamed at them, unable to contain it. Freed broke into the most beautiful smile, a joyful laugh emerging back and forth between them like ripples in water.

"That was really nice," Freed said with a secret smile. "Really nice."

"I liked that," he said, and their eyes jumped to his.

"Me too."

Unable to hold off, Laxus leaned in and kissed their forehead.

"Bedtime?" Freed asked, regret evident in their voice.

"Yeah, probably," Laxus laughed. "But tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow we can talk about it."

Freed's tentative grin met Laxus's and grew, until they were giving each other ridiculous, knowing smiles.

"Gods, I can't handle you right now," Laxus laughed. "Go away. You're too—everything."

"Overwhelming?" Freed teased.

"Yes."

"Enthusiastically consenting?"

"That too."

"Pretty and handsome?"

"Definitely." He found their hand and squeezed it.

It was Freed who rose this time, pulling Laxus up and the two of them sharing an embarrassed but happy laugh.

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Freed chuckled. "I guess you get your way. But tomorrow night, I'm going _home,_ because I refuse to let you sleep in uncomfortable places more than two nights in a row."

"You're too good to me," Laxus said, following them up the stairs and only briefly glancing over their figure.

They paused long enough to cast a glance over their shoulder. "You deserve it, Laxus. It's about time something good happened for you."

"In that case, maybe we should keep making out."

Freed laughed, as Laxus had hoped, and continued up the stairs.

"Tomorrow," they said before closing the bedroom door.


	7. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things progress between Laxus and Freed, and Laxus decides there's something special he wants to do for them.

Tomorrow came with plenty more kisses. They were both shy at first, Freed passing him twinkly little half-smiles across the kitchen while Laxus felt his face glowing, until finally Freed took his arm, turned him toward them, and stretched up to kiss him softly on the lips.

Breakfast almost burned. Almost.

It was effortless to talk about anything and everything, though neither of them seemed able to bring up the Big Topic, although perhaps that was sleepiness or the need for food.

At last, with their legs in Laxus's lap, Freed coughed and said, "So I think it's clear I have ulterior motives for wanting you to stay."

"I definitely don't," Laxus said, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

Freed let out a delighted laugh.

"Seriously," they chuckled, "I don't want to…"

He could tell they were looking for delicate words to say _affect your decision__._

"You didn't," he said. "All the things I said yesterday were completely true. But this is an extra reason. And I think it's valid."

"To move because you like someone?" Freed smirked.

"Oh, come on, we know each other better than that," Laxus said. "You're not someone I just met. You're one of my best friends."

"Yeah." They sobered and picked at their nails before looking up again. "What would you like with…us?"

"I want to be in a relationship," Laxus said, but he tripped over half the words and made Freed laugh even though they were clearly trying not to. He was glad their face looked as red as his felt.

"I do too. I mean…now or later? What's the situation, where are things going starting today and moving forward? What do you want?"

"I want you: I just said that," Laxus smiled. "I don't care when. As soon as possible, preferably? Why—do you have some caveat?"

"No, no, it's just…you're vulnerable. There's a lot happening. Your grandfather—"

"Our grandfather," he corrected.

"Ours…yeah. He just woke up. There's a lot of rehab in his future. And you've still got the trial and you haven't technically moved here yet…"

"You are an incredibly practical person," Laxus said, shifting closer under Freed's legs so he could wrap an arm around Freed's waist. Run his thumb over their hip. "I don't think any of that matters. Unless it matters to _you._ That's what I'm trying to say. I care if you care. But if you're just asking me if I care…I don't. None of that gets in the way for me. Life will always be hectic and crazy. I want you in the hectic and crazy."

At his smile and his soft words, Freed's expression broke into something tender and vulnerable.

"Okay," they said.

"Okay," Laxus agreed.

He leaned forward and Freed tipped their foreheads together, the pair of them breathing in sync for a few minutes. This…just this…felt so nice. To simply _be_ together.

"I want to kiss you again," they murmured. Laxus opened his eyes.

"So kiss me," he teased.

They took his breath away and didn't let him get it back for a long time.

* * *

The pair tried to keep their relationship quiet, but that lasted all of a day. At the hospital, they ran into Lucy and Mira, Lucy having apparently decided it was time for Grandpa Vermillion-slash-Dreyar's past to stop getting in the way of all his surrogate children loving on him. When the two women appeared in the doorway of the room, Laxus and Freed were holding hands, and Laxus couldn't bear to let go. It was still hard seeing Dedushka like this—harder all over again now that he'd seen him semi-awake—and Freed's grip was keeping him together.

Mira and Lucy both noticed, but neither said anything.

The next morning at the office, however, Bickslow bustled into Freed's office where the pair of them were working and demanded, "So what's going on between you two?"

Freed turned the darkest shade Laxus had ever seen on them, and didn't seem able to speak.

"We are together," Laxus said after a moment.

"Really?"

"It's not that exciting," he said, despite the fact that his insides were constantly saying otherwise.

"Yes, it is! Finally! Congratulations. I'll have you know I won the bet. Evergreen's sore because she thought you would take at least six months, and she blames Mira for noticing and spilling the beans, so there might be some marital strife around those two."

Bickslow beamed like a benevolent deity.

"Oh my god." Freed rolled their eyes. "Out of my office before I throw something at you."

But the words were affectionate, and Bickslow grinned before ducking out—with a backwards wink at Laxus, who laughed.

The following weeks were full of adjustments, calls, busyness. Laxus took time off to fly back, move, and settle everything, during which time Freed (as they confessed to him later) was melancholy and lonely in the office. In the evenings after his return, the pair of them curled up together at the house and talked or ate or streamed sci-fi shows which they both talked over and commentated.

Dedushka became more and more lucid, eventually able to focus on people, and then smile, and finally to speak.

Laxus cried at the hospital, then went home with Freed and cried some more while they cuddled next to him and rubbed his back.

Everything was such a _relief._

That night, several weeks after their relationship started, they began sharing a bed. It was for comfort not for sex, although there was plenty of making out and spooning that went on in the days and weeks after. It was for comfort, and for nearness, and for the sheer joy of being together. It was because they liked it, and because they wanted to.

Their relationship wasn't sexual for a long time: nearly two months in before they moved carefully from clothed intimacies to nudity and passionate touches and Freed, very embarrassed, letting Laxus see their body. Laxus loved it.

He attributed the gradualness of their physical relationship to both of them being older; less interested in a quick fuck and more into the longer-term payoffs.

When it became sexual, it was a slow, electrifying, gentle thing that hit Laxus like a drug and filled his body with euphoria that lasted for days. A whole new phase of wonder and awe and addictive closeness. That first time of finally being together was so _much_ that Freed teared-up and cried after. Laxus held them for a long time, loving the feel and smell of their body and whispering promises to stay, to keep them safe, to keep their heart safe because he loved them.

The pair moved in together, into the big house, which had more than enough room for three people. Dedushka had finally come home, and it was good to have Freed there, extra help in those initial weeks of Dedushka regaining various functions.

Dedushka's reaction to their relationship was joy and happy surprise.

Laxus felt overjoyed too. Freed shared his bed and his life, and Laxus fell asleep every night with his pinkie hooked through theirs. He'd never had anything like that with anyone in his thirty-some-odd years of life.

Laughing with Freed, working with Freed, talking about serious things together, seeing Freed's focused frown across the desk at work; every day was a new, mundane, peerless joy. Laxus didn't know how he'd ever been happy before this.

* * *

Laxus suggested it when they wrapped up a big project.

Actually, he first suggested it several weeks earlier, in bed after a panting round of what made Freed feel like they were Laxus's sole focus and desire.

"I think we should take a vacation after this. We've earned it."

"Okay," Freed shrugged. They were getting better about taking breaks: ever since dating, Laxus had instated a 'no work on Saturdays' rule, and Freed had come to enjoy the weekends of doing nothing: cooking, running errands together, helping Dedushka with his garden. "Where do you want to go?"

"Somewhere tropical and warm."

"Tired of the wind and cold?" they smiled.

"The point of vacation is to escape, after all," Laxus grinned.

"Okay," Freed said, as Laxus drew a finger down the center of their chest. "I like it."

"Do you want to go just us, or family too?"

"Grandpa?" Freed asked.

"Yeah. And Lucy. She could definitely use a break too."

"We can afford it," Freed mused—they had no expensive hobbies between them, and Freed had been hoping they'd use their savings on something like travel. "And Grandpa could use a break too, you know. Really, we all could."

* * *

In the end, it was the two of them, Makarov, Lucy, Bickslow, and Mira and Evergreen. Natsu and Gray bowed out due to other engagements, but it was still a family vacation, and Freed was excited. They'd never had a family vacation in their life. Neither had Laxus. Only Mirajane and Evergreen had experience with family trips, and Mira's experience was clouded by the fact that any time spent with her parents was terrible.

The five of them that worked at F&T finished off a big project and celebrated at Grandpa's house along with Grandpa and Lucy.

"In thirty-six hours, we'll be in the air," Freed said, their heart jumping at the thought. "I've always wanted to travel and I never have. I have no idea why."

"Because you're too busy being a hard-nosed boss," Bickslow teased, joshing them.

* * *

Laxus's hands were sweaty as they went to bed the night before their flight. It had nothing to do with flying—although he anticipated takeoff and landing to be torture like usual, mitigated at least by Freed's presence. No, it was his own plans that had him nervous.

Nervous and impatiently eager.

He was out of it enough that he nearly left his wallet behind: Freed handed it to him as they walked out the door to the taxi.

"Someone's excited," they said, kissing him on the lips.

Laxus's sweaty palms returned once they were through security, nearly dropping his ticket half a dozen times before he safely tucked it in his pocket. Hopefully the attendant wouldn't be put off by the fact that it was all wrinkly from his moist fingers.

In a whirl, they had met up with the others, found their gate, scanned their tickets, and found their seats. Evergreen had worked some magic ("It's called reserving seats, Laxus; it's not that hard") to get them all together.

And Laxus nearly had a heart attack when he patted his pocket, found it empty, and realized what he wanted was in his bag. Right. He'd put it there for safekeeping precisely to _stave off_ panic.

It turned out that takeoff was not as bad when your partner held your hand and chatting amicably through the experience. Laxus survived with minimal teeth-gritting, and without totally strangling Freed's fingers.

The easy part was done.

* * *

"May I?" Laxus asked, motioning across Freed's lap at the aisle.

He slipped to the back of the plane, his precious cargo now in a—tightly zippered—pocket of his trousers and spoke quietly to one of the attendants. Would it be alright if he blocked the aisle for a few minutes? He had a good reason…

* * *

"Freed."

Laxus's voice roused them from their book, which they stuffed in the seat pocket before starting to rise. He was waiting in the aisle—

"Don't stand up." Laxus put a hand on their arm.

They stared at him quizzically.

"You'll want to be sitting down for this," he said.

Then he knelt down next to their chair.

"Freed," he said.

"Yes?"

Freed felt gripped by something: they didn't know what. Something serious was clearly going on here, and they were baffled by his behavior.

Laxus unzipped his pocket.

"You're so attractive," he was saying, "and so incredibly smart, which is also apparent from looking at you. And you frequently get hit on…"

Laxus pulled something out of his pocket.

"Next time someone asks for your number, I think this should be your response."

And he held out a wallet-sized card.

Utterly confused, Freed took it. On one side, it had a phone number. When they flipped it over, it read, 'This is not my number. This is the number for the national rejection hotline. This is not because of you. I am married, and unfortunately for you, my husband and I are monogamous.'

They had to read the words twice, mouth slowly falling open as the meaning hit them.

Laxus was still kneeling next to their seat. They looked up at him in shock.

"What do you think?" Laxus asked, his smile happy, uncertain, and shy all at once. "Could that apply to you?"

"Yes," they gasped out. "Yes. Yes! Absolutely. I—yes. I would very much like that. Please."

The silly beaming grin on Laxus's face could only be beaten by the silly beaming grin Freed could feel on their own cheeks. In the seats behind them, Evergreen cheered and across the aisle Bickslow clapped. Throwing everything to the winds, Freed grabbed Laxus's face in their palms and kissed him very hard on the lips.

Laxus murmuring and gasping into their mouth was the best thing. Just as euphoric and just as surprised.

"That's my grandson," Freed could hear Grandpa saying, and when they looked up, the flight attendants were grinning and people in the seats around them were leaning over the seats to smile and cheer.

"Ladies and gentleman," the loudspeaker said, and Freed hid their face against Laxus's shoulder, already knowing this was going to be mortifying, "two of our passengers have just made the switch from dating to engaged. Please give them a round of applause…"

Freed couldn't stop laughing, and Laxus was chuckling against them.

"My knees hurt," he laughed. His smile was so wide.

While their fellow passengers gave them a cheer, Freed kissed him one more time and tugged him up.

"C'mere, future husband. Come sit with me."


End file.
